Needful Hands
by Gaea Blackwell
Summary: Harry's a widowed father with the weight of the world upon his shoulders and a daughter that adores him. But he still needs someone to reach out to, to go to. Is anyone really there? Songfic to the song of the same name by Jars of Clay (yes, again).


A/N: Ah, another song-fic. And again, another song from Jars of Clay. I think I'm addicted to this, now. This one is kind of done in an AU, though. Harry's all grown up, he's been married, and he has a daughter. Don't ask why, Meredith and Circe just sort of jumped into my head as I was writing this. And I highly doubt that I'll ever write a series concerning them, so feel free to take them. And don't ask how or why Circe died…I really don't know, and I like to leave bit of mystery to my characters' pasts. Just like the old man from _A Message._ He wasn't really anyone special. If anything, he was Remus' guardian angel. 

Oh, and if anyone is interested in hearing these songs, they're available on Napster, and some of them are at jarsofclay.com. They're worth downloading, trust me.

Needful Hands

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For those under the clouds  
Staring up in awesome wonder

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"Daddy! It's a falling star!"

Harry grinned to himself as he glanced down at the pair of bright-green eyes that shown up at him from the ground. He nudged his glasses up on his nose before bending down and scooping the blonde-haired girl into his arms. "No, Meredith. Stars can't fall, remember?"

She stuck out her tongue as she threw her head back against his shoulder, gazing up at the night-sky once more.

"But it looks like a star, and it's falling."

Harry couldn't help smiling at her childish logic. "Yes, but Uncle Sirius is named after a star, and I don't call him that, do I?"

She shrugged, and pointed one tiny finger into the chilly October air. "What's that?"

He followed her gaze as well as he could, and smiled sadly as his eyes rested upon the mass of dark clouds that hung in the net of stars. "That's called the Milky Way. The heavens, themselves."

"Milky Way?" Meredith wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't look too milky to me."

He laughed, and hoisted her higher on his hip, twirling around suddenly as she squealed in delight. She let go of his neck, throwing her arms into the air and reaching them towards the sky.

He stopped and looked at her, raising an eyebrow beneath his wire-rimmed glasses. "What are you doing now, Merry?"

Her arms drifted back to her sides, and she blinked at him, growing solemn. "Trying to touch Mummy," she whispered.

Harry's smile disappeared, and he looked away from his daughter's bottle-green eyes. His own eyes found themselves traveling upward, towards the grey streak of gases that spread along the velvet blanket of night. He sighed, and bent over once more, setting Meredith on the dewy grass of the field. She clung to his leg as he ran a hand through his mess of hair, sighing shakily.

"Mummy's watching you, you know," he told her.

A thumb had protruded its way into her mouth and kept her from answering.

"She's always watching. Just like my Mummy and Daddy."

Meredith looked away from her father and let go of his robes. Taking the thumb out of her mouth, she swallowed thickly and then ran off into the middle of the meadow, her own cerulean robes flowing out from behind her as they were caught in the wind.

Harry tucked his hands into his pockets, watching her go without concern. The tiny four-year-old knew more about the meadow than he did, after all. He had rarely been home to explore it in the past three years, and she spent most of her time playing out here with her aunts and uncles. He smiled shakily as he watched her disappear under a clump of bushes. Sirius had shown him the fort that he and Meredith had built last summer - and that Sirius had protected with a number of anti-danger spells.

Left alone in the middle of the meadow, Harry's eyes went heavenward again, un-focusing slightly as tears smeared over his vision. Copying his daughter, he lifted one arm into the air, brushing his fingertips against the light breaths of wind that blew past him, envisioning his wife and parents flying just out of his reach, reaching their own hands towards him from the distant Milky Way.

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As tears come slowly down  
I'm reaching up a needful hand

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He drew in a deep breath, and dropped the hand. It was no use, after all. He couldn't remember how many times he had tried that, in the nights at Privet Drive when no one cared, when no one wanted to remember that he was hidden underneath the stairs. He had tried it when he was at Hogwarts, when the entire school hated him and Ron seemed to think that Harry thought nothing of his friendship. He had always needed someone to reach back to him, to remind him that he was not alone – but no one ever had.

He stared at the ground, the blades of grass blurring together into one mass of green. The tears were completely smearing his vision now, making it impossible for him to see anything but what was in his mind's eye.

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You are my eyes when I cannot see  
You are my voice, see, sing through me

You are my strength in weakness be

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Meredith tiptoed out of her fort, skipping across the field as her robes fluttered out behind her, flopping the hood against her back carelessly. She did not slow as she approached her father, but broke out into a run, crashing into him and nearly knocking him off of his feet. He recovered, bending over and scooping her into his arms once again.

"Don't cry, Daddy. Don't cry. You never cry," she whispered in his ear, and he nodded as he tucked her head against his shoulder once more.

She was right. He was stronger than this. There was no reason to cry.

He had rarely cried over his parents. He had never really known them, after all. He only cried when Sirius remembered them, when Sirius began to relate his memories about the Marauders to Harry, in hopes of giving Harry some semblance of a past. All it did was remind Harry of the life he had never led –would never see. It made him think of the pain that others had gone through that night in October, twenty-five years ago. It made him regret not dying with his parents.

But Circe…Circe had been a different story. He had cried more times than he could remember over his long-gone wife. But of course, Meredith had never seen this. Meredith had been too young to understand what it all meant…to see that her mother would never come back. She had been too little to know that Circe was gone forever, and nothing, not even the strongest of spells, could bring her back. He knew, though. He had tried enough times to know.

He rubbed his hands against Meredith's back, burying his face in her golden hair. It tickled at his skin, but he did not mind. He merely closed his eyes and reveled in it. Drawing in a breath, he steeled himself for what he knew to be the truth – for he would never lie to his own daughter. "I won't cry anymore, Merry. I promise."

She lifted her head and peered at him, as if trying to read the expression in his eyes. "You promise," she stated.

He almost smiled at the serious tone. "Yes, Merry. I solemnly swear."

She broke out into a smile, and threw her arms around his neck. He kissed her forehead. _She's stronger than I ever would be._

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To find that I could fall  
And still your grace surrounds, pursuing

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As Meredith pulled away from him, he felt a sudden lightness in his heart, warmth spreading down to his toes and lighting his eyes with mirth. He couldn't explain it. Meredith noticed, with the intuition of a young child, and poked him in the ribs. "Mummy heard you swear, too," she told him.

He almost laughed. Almost. "I don't doubt that she did, Merry."

But he knew that that wasn't the truth. He had felt that feeling long before he had met Circe. Circe was not the source of his joy. He could think that she was, all he wanted, but he knew it wasn't the truth. She was his love, yes, but she had never brought him the otherworldly joy that he felt now. That belonged to someone else.

A smiling someone else with green eyes and bright red hair.

He could remember that night in fourth year. How his mother had come from Voldemort's wand, spoke to him. How unspeakably happy she had seemed, even in death. He had never understood such emotions until Circe had died.

He hadn't cried the day that Circe died. He had merely fallen back on his bed, thrown one arm over his eyes and brooded. He had lain there for hours, trying to sleep, but knowing it wouldn't happen. He had tossed and turned, trying to make himself believe that it wasn't true. But a nagging voice in the back of his head had continually reminded him that yes, his wife was dead and his child was all that was left in this world.

But then he had felt the warmth. It hadn't been the first time, but it was the first time that he had known what it was, where it was from. It always started in the center of his heart, reaching out soft fingers to his veins and combing through his skin. It never failed to finally make him smile either. It always took the pain and despair away from his mind, leaving him with nothing but love in his conscience. Achingly, it was like the Imperius Curse, leaving him without the cares of the world. But it lacked the empty feeling that associated itself with that single curse. Instead, it filled his soul with something indescribable. He had never bothered to name it. It was of no use.

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To freely stumble down  
I feel your hands around my heart

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But he had always known that that feeling was from Lily, from his light-hearted mother that couldn't bear to see her son despair. He had always known that when he needed her most, she had taken him into her ethereal arms, holding him as he cried.

She had done it now, and she would do it until he joined her. He could only wish the same thing for Meredith. He could only pray that Circe had learned this simple joy from Lily, and took Meredith into her arms as an otherworldly comfort.

He sighed, finally setting Meredith back down onto the ground, smiling to himself as she protested and reached up for him once more. Obeying, he swept her into his arms and kissed her cheek as her arms flung themselves around his neck once more. She was crying.

Stunned, Harry pulled away from her slightly, wrinkling his eyebrows. "What's wrong, Merry-Berry?"

She lifted her tear-stained face, wiping furiously at her cheeks. "Mummy's here. Mummy wants to hug me, but she can't reach me."

Confused, Harry brushed the young girl's bangs out of her eyes and bit his lip. He had never thought that a mother would be unable to reach her child. Unless the child was unwilling. He nodded to himself…that would explain it, yes. But why would Meredith be unwilling?

"Are you scared of her, Meredith?" he asked the girl, quietly.

Meredith looked away from him and nodded slowly.

He smiled to himself and hoisted her higher on his hip, kissing her forehead once more. "You shouldn't be scared, Meredith. Mummy loves you."

"But I'm scared that she'll take me away from _you._"

He almost laughed outright, touched by the child's sentiment, but also amused by her ignorance. "Oh, no, she can't do that, Merry. She wants to help you feel better. My own Mum does that, you know."

Meredith blinked, looking at him in amazement. "Nanny does that?"

He smiled at his daughter's nickname for Lily, the grandmother she would never know. "Yes, Nanny does that for Daddy. Mummy wants to be there for you. She loves you."

Meredith stared at him wordlessly for a few more moments. Without warning, she broke her gaze, and stared at the sky, suddenly throwing her arms into the air and squeezing her eyes shut. Almost instantly, a smile broke over her face and she grinned.

Smiling to himself, Harry spun around, whirling the blonde girl through the air, both of her arms stretched towards the heavens.

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You are my strength, my voice, my eyes  
I lift up needful hands

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Shifting her into a Superman position, he twirled faster, surging her through the air as she spread out angel-wings, laughing as the wind brushed against her face and the woods surrounding them became a blur of browns and greens, hidden in the darkness of the night.

Harry laughed out loud as he stumbled to the ground, crashing into the dewy grass and clutching his daughter to his chest in a bear-hug. His heart had never felt lighter.

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You are my strength, my voice, my eyes  
I lift up needful hands, I lift up needful hands.

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End file.
